by Lucinda Race
Dad put a hand out to stop her. “I’ll take care of it. Introduce Colin to our guest.”
Colin extended his hand to David. “Colin Grant and you must be David Marchand.” They shook hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He slid his arm around the back of Anna’s chair.
She held in her grin but was happy he was by her side.
“It is a pleasure, Colin.” He sat on the other side of Anna and turned his attention back to her. “As I was saying, Anna, which of these wines is your favorite?” He took a seat next to her.
With a laugh, she said, “That’s like asking my mom which one of her kids is her favorite.”
She poured the Pinot Grigio. “Let’s start with this and enjoy our lunch, and you can taste what we have. These four are a good representation of the CLW line.”
David held up his glass. “À votre santé, to your good health.”
Sam, Colin, and Anna tapped his glass. “To good health.”
Anna looped her arm through Colin’s after Dad and David had left the bistro.
“I am so glad you came today. You should have seen the look on David’s face when you swooped in.”
“It was fun and the best part was that I got to see my girl in action. I even learned a little bit about wine.”
She kissed his cheek. “So, does that mean you’re my guy?”
“I like how that sounds.” He took her in his arms and lightly kissed her lips. “Ready to head over to CL Driving Range and give golf a swing?”
“Give me a few minutes to change, and then we can head out. I’ll meet you outside the tasting room.” She stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. Today was turning out to be full of surprises. Who knew, maybe she’d be able to hit the ball too.
With a wink and a chuckle, he said, “I’ll pull the getaway car up to the door.”
* * *
Anna pulled her ponytail through the back of her dark-gray baseball cap. It sported the logo of Tessa’s winery, Sand Creek. And just to be sure she wasn’t accused of bias, she had tucked a dark-green cap for Colin in her bag. It bore the CLW logo.
She had selected gray shorts, a bright pink-and-white-striped golf shirt, and a pink sweater. Based on what she had seen online, if she couldn’t hit the ball, she’d look the part. In her tote bag, she stashed her purse, bottled water, and a brand-new pair of spikeless golf shoes that she found on sale. She figured the minimal investment was worthwhile.
When she heard a toot from the parking lot, she grabbed the bag and pulled the tasting room door closed behind her. Colin got out of his Subaru sedan and opened the passenger door for her. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had been so gracious, and she was definitely flattered. He stowed her bag in the back seat.
“Hey.” She got in and buckled her seat belt as he went around to the driver’s side.
He brushed her cheek with his lips. “You look like a golfer.”
“Thanks.”
Dark sunglasses covered his hazel eyes but his green polo shirt would complement them. She glanced at his slacks.
“Should I have worn pants?”
“No, you look great. I just thought I should wear pants to lunch.”
“Do you want to change before we take off?”
“No, I’m comfortable. So, tell me. Did David bring his family on this mystery trip?”
“No, just him.” She adjusted the seat belt. “I was surprised he didn’t ask about my new formulation for a summer wine, which is another blend.”
“I didn’t think wineries developed new wines every year.” He sped up when they reached the main road.
“This one might never be commercialized, but I love to play around and see if I can come up with the next big buzz in the industry. It jazzes me up for the regular work.”
“Which is?”
“Each season, the juice is different. We have a guideline of how we’ll blend to make every variety, but there is usually some tweaking involved to maintain consistency from year to year for the standards like the cab or Cayuga. I always need to pay close attention to how the different juices will work with others.”
“Huh. I never realized it was that complex. I thought you take juice, put it in silver vats and wait a while, then put it in bottles.”
She clapped her hands together with a hoot of laughter. “On your next day off, you should come by the winery and I’ll give you the full behind the scenes tour, including a tasting. That will give you a much better idea of what I do.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “This means we have at least two more dates planned. Playing golf and now the winery.”
She felt a slow smile spread over her face. Her heart skipped a beat and she met his eyes. “I guess it does.”
He took her hand and their fingers interlaced. She noticed his were long and slender, but strong. She couldn’t help but let her mind wander as to how they would feel as they slipped over her skin. She shivered.
“Are you cold? I can close the sunroof.”
“I like the fresh air.”
His smile warmed her body and soul. She wondered what his flaw was and if it was fatal. She had spent enough time dating guys who turned out to be losers, overly possessive, thought she had deep pockets they could tap or, worse, had a child they didn’t take care of but she could. Was Colin a nice guy whom other girls decided he was too nice to date?
She gave him a side-glance. “Do you have any deep, dark secrets I should know about?”
He gave a half shrug. “I was engaged once.”
“I’m sorry. What happened?” She waved her hand. “You don’t need to answer that.”
“It’s fine. We just grew apart and had different dreams of what our futures would look like. She moved to the West Coast and thought a long-distance relationship could work. I wanted to live here, sink in some roots, and raise a family.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. We wished each other well and parted company. What about you?”
“I’ve dated off and on, but nothing has really clicked.” She licked her lips. “Yet. I may need more than two more dates to decide.” Part of her was anxious to see where they were headed and the other side of her was enjoying living in the moment and reveling in all the new experiences.
16
When they got to the driving range, Anna slung the bag of golf clubs Colin’s sister had loaned her over her shoulder. She was sporting her new golf shoes and she slipped on her pink sweater. A slight breeze teased her ponytail and the afternoon was perfect, not a cloud in the royal blue sky.
“Do we need to go to the clubhouse?”
“No. I’m a member so I called and prepaid.” Colin finished tying his golf shoes.
She chewed her bottom lip and looked out over the range. “Did I tell you I watched a bunch of tutorials online? I think I’ve got the hang of it.”
He laughed. “This is more of a hands-on sport. But you get a point for initiative.”
They walked down a short flight of stone stairs and followed the signs that stated CL Driving Range. She noticed there were stands for a dozen golf bags. In front of them, the ground had a steep decline, and she guessed the balls dropped onto that grassy area. Huge signs indicated the footage markers. They were the only people at the range so she didn’t feel the need to keep her voice low, as was customary golf etiquette, something else she had learned online.
A flash of nerves washed over her. “How long have you been golfing again?”
“Since I was a kid, but that never matters in golf. You can have a good, great, or horrible day from one round to the next.”
This sounded weird. If you didn’t steadily improve, what was the point? “Then why do you keep coming back?”
“Because you just never know when you’ll make that hole in one or birdie a putt. There are so many factors out of your control, how the greens are kept, the wind, how the ball lands and if it bounces or not.”
She could hear the sincerity in his voice. “You really do enjoy the
game.”
“I do and I hope you do too.”
She set her bag in one of the stands and pulled out a random club. “Do we use our own balls?” She was confused. “Then how do we get them back?” She frowned and shoved the club back in the bag.
He grabbed her hand. “Come on. We need to get a bucket of balls.” He held up a swipe card and pointed to a short, squat metal box at the edge of the range. “Over there.” They strolled over the perfectly manicured grass.
She took in their surroundings. “The grounds are stunning.”
“Some of the best landscaping I’ve seen is on a golf course. Someone is always doing something.” He slowed his steps. “My mom always said a good walk around the course is spoiled by having to actually hit the ball.”
Her steps slowed. “Is that a warning?”
“Nah. Mom’s an amazing golfer, but I do think she likes the scenery the best.”
They grabbed two empty wire-coated buckets and placed one under the chute. Then Colin swiped what looked like a debit card and hit the button. She gave him a questioning look.
“It’s a card the club provides so we can get range balls.”
“Clever idea. Is it all it’s good for?”
Balls thunked into the first bucket and he handed it to her. He filled another bucket.
“No. We can use it at the nineteenth hole too.”
“I’m confused. I thought there are only eighteen.”
His grin split his cheeks. “That’s the bar where you go after a round.”
“Are we skipping everything and going straight to nineteen tonight?”
He gave her a quick look. “It depends on how you do at the range.”
She replied with a “Hmm” and pretended to stalk back to her clubs, deliberately making her ponytail swing.
“Anna,” he called after her, “I was joking.”
She flashed him a wicked grin over her shoulder. “I plan to dazzle you with my skill.” She set down the bucket and looked at her clubs. She grabbed one with a flat metal head. “It’s says it’s a seven. What does that mean?”
His eyes grew wide and mischief made them sparkle. “Missed that in the online tutorial, did you?” He pulled out a long club with a fat, round head. “The higher the number on a club, the shorter the distance. This is your driver. Let’s start with this one.”
“Okay, but how do I know it’s the driver?” She took the club from his hands and gripped it like she had seen online. Hand over hand.
“It typically doesn’t have a number but sometimes it’s labeled as ONE.” He gave a soft laugh. “I know you’re determined to knock my socks off, but would it be okay if I gave you a few tips?”
She propped her hand on her hip. “It would be rude to refuse.” Once she had the club in her hands, she wasn’t sure what she should do next.
He came around behind her and slipped his arms over hers. His hands repositioned her fingers and he said, “Interlock the pinky on your right hand with your left index finger and grip the shaft firmly but don’t squeeze.”
Her heart knocked against her chest wall. He was so close to her that his warm breath caressed her cheek. How was she going to be able to pay attention to his directions if her mind was racing with different ideas? It was his fault because of his choice of words.
“Now, I want you to take a deep breath in and slowly exhale. As you do, I want you to really concentrate on the ground in front of you and keep your head down.”
“Ball?” She was definitely having trouble forming a coherent sentence.
“We’re practicing.”
His breath tickled her neck. Inwardly, she groaned. Did they really need to practice? Silently, she admonished herself to focus. This was a golf lesson, not a seduction.
“Now keep your head down. We’re going to swing your arms back slowly in an arch and your hands will be about shoulder height. Then, with more speed, you’re going to bring the club down, and you want to graze the grass in front of you. That’s where you’ll connect with the ball. You want to follow through and the ball will go forward.”
She looked over her shoulder and brushed the dimple in his chin with her lips. “This is fun,” she murmured. Her pulse kicked up. She liked the little kisses here and there and was looking forward to when they took them to the next level.
She could feel his body rise and fall with silent laughter. “We’ll do one without the ball together and then you can give it a try, with a ball.”
Good heavens. All the innuendos she could make, and would, if she knew him better. She stifled a laugh.
“Alright. So I hold the club firmly, but not too tight.”
“Yes.”
She shifted slightly in her stance, which brought her closer to him as she lifted her arms up and back as he instructed. She paused as the club hung in the air.
“Now I bring it down and try to hit the grass,” she said.
“Yes. This way, you’ll give the ball lift.”
Slowly, she swung the club head down. It whiffed the air.
“What did I do wrong?”
“You picked your head up and you need more speed on the descent. Try it again, but this time when you address the ball, keep your eyes glued to it on the ground and keep your arms straight until you get up to ninety degrees when you cross your body. You don’t need to look at anything but when the head of the club meets the ball, and don’t forget to follow through.”
He stepped away from her. Which, as far as Anna was concerned, was too bad.
He selected a ball and walked over to the defined area of grass. Sticking up from the center was what looked like a short PVC straw. He balanced the ball on it.
“Ready?”
She came over and stood in front of him.
“Do you want me to help you get into position?”
“No. I’m all set.” But I’d like to watch you swing a club. She definitely needed to focus.
“Take your time. There’s no need to rush.”
She exhaled and dropped her shoulders and eyes as Colin had said. The head of the club rested to the right of the tee. She totally focused on the ball. She took another deep breath and swung the club back and then brought it down with a rush. Clumps of grass flew up and she looked down the range, scanning the area for her ball.
“Where did it go?” she exclaimed.
With a soft chuckle, Colin said, “Look down.”
Sitting on a tuft of sod was her ball. Her shoulders slumped. “How did I do that?”
“You hit the ground before you hit the ball. When you brought the club down, it was more of a chopping motion and less of a graceful swing.”
With a laugh, she said, “I’m going to try again.” She plopped the ball on the little plastic tee and did the exact same thing again. She looked out of the corner of her eye. He was watching her with a serious expression.
“Am I doing this wrong?”
“Not at all.”
She straightened and leaned against the club. “Care to show me how it’s done? It might help to see it in person and not on the screen.”
He gave her a wink and grabbed a club from his bag, along with a range ball from the bucket.
She said, “Everything is better when you use the personal touch.”
His eyebrow shot up. “True.” He set the ball on the tee. “See how I hold the club and how my head and shoulders are relaxed?”
“Uh-huh.”
With a slow, deliberate swing, the club arched up and behind his shoulder and accelerated in speed on the way down. It connected with the ball, which flew over the grass in a perfect arch. Then Colin struck the golfer’s classic pose she had seen online and she watched him while he watched his ball.
“That was spectacular.”
He dropped the club into his bag. “Your turn.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do that or look like that.”
“It takes practice, but you’ll get there. Remember, we all start in the same place.”
If only she could. But he was right. Everyone had to start at the beginning of the learning curve. She followed his instructions exactly. Set the ball in place, hold the club with fingers interlaced. After several deep breaths with her eyes locked on the ball, willing it to fly through the air as cleanly as Colin’s did, her mantra repeated over and over. I can do this. I can do this. She swung the club back. Without hesitation, she brought the club down, her eyes on the dimples in the ball. She felt it connect as she followed through in a full arc.
She didn’t want to look down. Would the ball still be sitting there? No, she had felt it fly.
“Anna. It went one hundred yards. Look!”
“Where?” She scanned the area in front of her.
He slipped an arm around her waist and extended the other for her to follow out to the range.
“Do you see that little white lump to the left of the one hundred sign?”
“That’s mine?” She was shocked. She had done it. She turned toward him and, with one hand on his shirt, pulled him close. “I did it.” Anna claimed his mouth with hers and kissed him long and hard. The club slipped to the ground.
When he pulled back, he looked deep into her eyes. “I’m guessing you like this game after all?”
“You have no idea.” She pecked his lips. “I’m going to do that again.”
“What, hit the ball or kiss me?” Colin didn’t release her.
She snaked her arms around his neck and stepped closer to his body. She murmured, “I really like this part of golf.”
17
Anna smiled as she sorted through the stack of mail on her desk at the office, remembering how much fun the driving range had been the night before. She noticed a thick cream envelope. She turned it over. The return address was from the Director of the London Wine Fair. It was a prestigious event, but why were they sending her a letter? She ripped it open and pulled out several pages. She scanned the contents and leaned back in her chair as she reread the letter again.